


An Inflated Sense of Nobility

by Sweet_Christabel



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, matchmaker Gordon, original series based, seriously though who takes two whole days for a shopping trip?, the whole Tracy crew is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Christabel/pseuds/Sweet_Christabel
Summary: TOS based. Something has been building between Scott and herself that causes Tin-Tin to break up with Alan, but even with her new freedom they are too stubborn and noble to act on it, deciding to suffer in silence until they get over it. Unfortunately, that doesn't look set to happen, and Gordon has had enough.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds. I do own a mug with Thunderbirds on it. But that's all.
> 
> A/N: So I've loved this series practically my entire life, but for some reason I haven't written for it thus far. That changes today! Even as a child I shipped Scott and Tin-Tin (before I knew what shipping was), so apologies to Alan fans. He takes a mild bashing here, but I feel very affectionate towards him too. (Oh, and TAG fans, if you're wondering if I ship Scott and Kayo...you betcha!) Sorry for the crappy title. I couldn't think of anything else.
> 
> I started this story ages ago. Like literally years. I wrote two chapters and then got distracted, and I feel that it's really, really obvious that chapters one and two were written ages ago, even though I've tweaked them a bit. Hopefully it's not as bad as I think! Enjoy!

**Chapter One.**

 

Tin-Tin Kyrano hadn't had too many life-changing moments in her twenty-three years. Living and working where she did, moments required high standards to be considered life-changing. That said, simple realisations could qualify. And one day, she woke up and realised something so basic, yet so life-changing, that she had wanted to groan at her obtuseness and give in to panic at the same time. 

She wasn't in love with Alan. That wasn't her big revelation. She'd known that forever, and being a wise head on young shoulders, she'd never claimed otherwise. He'd pouted about it, naturally, but had eventually seen her point of view: that she didn't want to lie to him or lead him on, that she liked him, that she enjoyed spending time with him, and who knew where all of that would lead? So they'd carried on as they were, and it had been just fine. But it had led precisely nowhere. 

Well, that wasn't strictly true. It had led her to the primary part of her realisation: she wasn't in love with Alan, and she never would be. 

It was a conclusion that many of the other members of the household had come to months earlier, but none of them had wished to invoke the tantrum-based wrath of Alan by helping her reach it herself. Not that she'd have really listened. She was an outwardly calm and polite young woman, but she had a stubborn streak to rival Mr. Tracy’s. It was a conclusion she'd had to reach on her own, and she had. Eventually. She’d known it for a while, had even tried to break things off before, but circumstances kept preventing her from acting on it with any finality. 

But today was the day. She knew it. She just wasn’t sure _how_ she knew it. Then slowly, creeping into her thoughts as the rising sun crept through her blinds, the final part of her realisation. She’d never be in love with Alan, because she was already in love with someone else. She’d convinced herself that it hadn’t got that far, that she was still in control of her heart. Who was she kidding? 

She buried her head in her hands, letting her thick, dark hair curtain the faces she was pulling. She was alone, but she liked to try and maintain dignity at all times. Or at least, hide undignified moments from accidental view. She had to end things with Alan for good, and sooner rather than later. She doubted he’d forgive her enough that she’d feel able to act on her new knowledge, but she couldn’t string him along anymore. 

Alan was going to be inconsolable. Not because she was so amazing and wonderful that he would be lost without her, but because Alan was inconsolable whenever _anything_ went slightly askew in his life. It would affect everything. She groaned to think about it. Mr. Tracy would be bad-tempered, concerned that Alan's sulks would leak into his professional persona, Scott likewise, because he'd expect his younger brother to snap out of it, there wouldn't be any calming music or painting from Virgil because the disharmony would impinge on his artistic vibes, they wouldn't see Gordon for days on end because he'd seek refuge exploring the underwater caves, even though they all knew full well that there was nothing new to find there, Grandma Tracy would probably be out for Tin-Tin's blood, and her father would be disappointed that she was causing so much trouble. Even John would probably feel the effects, despite being well out of it in the quiet of space. Only Brains would be oblivious, happily hibernating in his lab. She envied him. 

Alan's tantrums had steadily grown to legendary status over the years. They were about due for another one. He hadn't had a proper one for four months, not since the epic burning of his favourite white animal print jacket by Gordon and John, an act that they deemed necessary for the good of those with twenty-twenty vision worldwide. Tin-Tin herself had come under attack for that one, simply because she'd giggled. She'd shrugged and let him sulk. The jacket had been utterly awful, although she wasn’t entirely sure it had warranted its own miniature Viking funeral, complete with little raft that Gordon had made with his own two hands simply for the purpose of being set on fire and sent out to sea. Alan had, predictably, failed to appreciate the effort. 

She wasn't worried about breaking Alan’s heart. It didn't belong to her. He'd said it did, but she knew better. He hadn't given it away yet, despite telling her he loved her. She hadn't believed it. With the best will in the world, he'd been saying what he thought was expected of him, not what he felt. She wasn't convinced that he knew that, though. 

With a jolt, she realised that she'd been sitting up in bed, staring at nothing, for the past twenty minutes. She pushed herself into action, throwing the covers aside and making that crucial first step of forcing her feet to make contact with the carpet. She took a shower, dried and styled her hair, and applied her usual quick sweep of eye shadow. 

She slipped into her favourite blue dress, the one that never failed to give her confidence a boost, then changed her mind and hunted for something less fussy. If she ventured out looking a million dollars, she'd just feel like she was rubbing it in Alan's face. She found a nondescript pair of linen slacks and a patterned blouse, and examined herself in the mirror. She'd do. At least for the task she had ahead of her. 

There was nothing to keep her in her room any longer, so she headed out to face the day. The family had already eaten and gone their separate ways, much to her relief. The island was tranquil, and she felt another wave of guilt that she was about to disrupt it. 

She heard Alan's voice coming from the lounge, followed by Virgil's soft reply. Out of sight, concealed by a corner wall, she halted, taking a deep breath, working up to stepping out. Movement in her peripheral vision made her turn. Scott stood loitering in a nearby doorway, a mug of steaming coffee in his hand, a curious frown on his face. She didn't blame him. Her behaviour was unusual. She tried to smile, suddenly wanting him to wish her luck. She had a feeling she was going to need it. He didn't, of course, not knowing what she was planning, but he returned her smile. 

Squaring her shoulders, she stood straighter, bracing herself. Scott moved too, copying her actions and lifting his chin. She lifted her own, and he gave a small, approving nod. Bobbing her head in thanks, she faced forward and entered the lounge.

* * *

Scott was what Gordon had once memorably referred to as 'surprisingly sensitive for a straight man'. He was still trying to work out exactly what that meant. He was perceptive, both professionally and in personal matters, often sensing danger ahead while they were out on a rescue, or knowing when to avoid or seek out various members of his family while off duty. He'd never sensed danger ahead while at home before. But now, watching Tin-Tin pause outside the lounge, practically preparing herself for battle, he felt it in droves. He knew what she was doing. He didn't envy her. Alan had a wicked tongue when he was hurt or angry, and he was probably about to be both.

She should face it with her head held high, though. He demonstrated, and she got it at once. She’d always been able to read him well. He watched as she took that first difficult step forward, vanishing through the door. He took a sip of coffee, relishing the comforting, bitter familiarity, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. He never stopped being alert. He didn't know how to. But he still enjoyed his morning coffee ritual, and he was still convinced that he needed it. 

He heard Tin-Tin's softly accented voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying. Then came the sound of footsteps as she and Alan retreated to the terrace to speak in relative privacy. He left his position in the doorway and headed into the lounge to join Virgil. At first glance the third Tracy brother appeared to be reading the newspaper, but his eyes were very obviously peering over the top, fixed on the closed patio doors.

"You're really not subtle, you know that?" Scott informed him, taking the empty seat next to him. 

Virgil pulled a face. "It's better than just staring at them."

"You _are_ just staring at them."

"Yes, but I don't _look_ like I'm staring at them."

Scott snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not fooling anyone.” 

Virgil turned to him, a faint frown creasing his forehead. "Not even a little?”

"Not even a little. You may as well have cut eye holes in the paper."

Virgil paused, considering. "Does that work?"

Scott sighed, taking another swig of coffee. Virgil was deadpan, but Scott always knew when he was joking. 

"Is she doing what I think she's doing?" Virgil asked, abandoning all pretence and lowering the paper. 

"I don't know," Scott admitted, swilling the last inch of coffee around the bottom of the mug. "But I think so." 

"She looks very resolved," Virgil observed. “I think it’s for good this time.”

Scott took in the determined set of Tin-Tin’s jaw, softened by the compassionate look in her eyes, and had to agree. It was the expression of someone soft-hearted taking on an unpleasant task, one they did not want to undertake but would not be swayed from. It was rather at odds with Alan’s frown and the petulant curl of his lip.

"Alan's pouting,” he pointed out. “That's not a good start."

"No," Virgil agreed. "I always said that she'd be the one to end that relationship." 

"It was kinda cynical of you to assume it was going to end." 

"That's not cynicism,” Virgil said insistently, “that's knowing people." 

"How did you figure that one?" 

Virgil folded the newspaper, placing it neatly on the side table at the end of the sofa. Clasping his hands, adopting an air that was faintly reminiscent of storytelling, he explained. "I know Alan, and I know Tin-Tin. Tin-Tin is a bright, sweet, intelligent young woman. Alan is a nice kid who still has a lot of growing up to do, who still sulks when he doesn't get his own way. Go figure." 

"Well," Scott conceded, "when you put it _that_ way." 

They both winced as Alan started shouting, making extravagant gestures with his hands as he yelled. They couldn't make out his words, just the muffled volume of his voice. Tin-Tin winced too, but didn't back away. Her face was still stern, but her eyes were glistening. 

"Should we rescue her?" Virgil pondered, sounding as if he found the task unappealing but felt obliged to be chivalrous. 

"That may come later," Scott predicted, frowning. It went against his old-fashioned instincts to sit by and let a lady be shouted at, but he knew better than to interfere in this particular matter. He’d already been more involved in it than Alan knew. 

Gordon entered the room, a towel thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His attention was immediately drawn to the ongoing drama on the terrace. 

"I went out to the pool and came straight back inside," he told them both. "Is she actually-"

"Yes," came the chorused reply.

"Are they going to be long? Cos I'd really like a swim today." 

"Jeez, Gordon, why don't you go and ask them how long they're going to be?" Virgil growled. 

Gordon took a few steps forward, heading for the doors, but Scott shot out a hand, pulling him back by his shirt. With a grin, he flopped down onto the sofa beside them. 

"I wondered how far you'd let me get." 

"Don't push me, kiddo." 

The three of them sat in relative silence, cringing at the sound of Alan's voice. Tin-Tin had so far remained her usual, softly spoken self, so aside from seeing her mouth move, it was almost like witnessing Alan shouting to himself. 

"Alan's really gonna be pissed this time," Gordon reflected. 

"Congratulations on receiving the award for understatement of the year," Virgil said with customary dryness. 

"Thanks. Can I make a speech?"

“Only if we’re not obliged to listen to it.” 

Gordon didn't dignify that with an answer. 

Outside, Tin-Tin started yelling back, often getting interrupted by Alan. The three observers once again winced. They were all very fond of Tin-Tin. To most of the household, she was the sister or daughter they'd never had, with a few notable exceptions. To Brains she was a friendly, proficient lab assistant. To Alan, she was convenient, a harsh truth that he, in fairness, probably didn't realise was the case. To Scott, she was something he couldn't define, and his greatest secret. 

Alan snapped something with dramatic emphasis, giving Tin-Tin a childish shove in the shoulder. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were on their feet in a trice. As mild as it had been, they'd all been raised not to hit a lady, even one perfectly capable of defending herself. Before they could step forward, Tin-Tin retaliated. Not with a slap on the cheek, as they would have expected, but with a full punch in the face. 

Scott and Virgil cringed. Gordon laughed. Scott sent him a sidelong glance and he shrugged. 

“Tin-Tin punched a shark in the face once when it was bothering her. Don’t see why Alan should be any different.” 

Alan staggered backwards, his nose bleeding, his expression one of complete and utter shock. Tin-Tin looked pretty shocked herself, but she stood her ground, saying something inaudible. Alan stared at her for a beat before wrenching open the patio doors and stomping through the lounge. They all heard the quiet hiss of his bedroom door closing. 

Tin-Tin remained where she was, immobile, her expression frozen on her face. Moving as one, Scott, Virgil and Gordon headed out to her, clustering around her and pelting her with questions about her welfare. 

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Thank you, boys." 

The tears in her eyes hadn't fallen, but the argument had shaken her. Her knuckles were red. 

"That was one hell of a punch, Tin-Tin," Gordon said, unable to hide the faintly admiring tone in his voice. "Can I hire you as a bodyguard next time we have a rescue?"

She smiled, laughing shakily. "Offer me a good salary and we'll talk." 

"What did he say?"

"Gordon!" Virgil scolded. "You can't ask her that!"

"She knows she doesn't have to answer."

“And I won’t, if you don’t mind,” she cut in. 

“Course not, honey,” Gordon said affectionately. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m going to head down to the pool.” 

She smiled wryly. “I’m fine. Don’t let me keep you from your natural habitat.” 

Gordon grinned and ruffled her hair, which he knew she hated. She wrinkled her nose and batted his hand away. Whistling a song he knew Alan detested, he made his way down the exterior steps to the pool. Virgil gave Tin-Tin’s shoulders a supportive squeeze, drawing a grateful smile from her. 

“I’d better go check on Alan,” he announced. 

“Oh please do, Virgil,” she said, an edge of regret in her tone. “I didn’t plan to hit him, really I didn’t.”

“I could see that! He’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure you bruised his ego more than his nose.” 

“I don’t know,” Scott mumbled doubtfully. 

Virgil shot her another warm smile, then ducked back into the lounge, already focused on his mission.

“Always the peacekeeper,” Tin-Tin observed fondly. 

“He’s the best of all of us,” Scott added in agreement. “You sure you’re okay?” 

She turned to him, her eyes a little drier. She opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated. He saw her visibly change her mind about what she was going to say.

“No,” she said at length. “I’m not. But I will be.” 

He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. For some reason he hadn’t expected quite that much truth from her. 

"You know where I am if you need to talk," he told her. 

"Yes. You say that to all of us. What do you do if you're the one who needs to talk?"

He stared at her, lost for words. No one had ever raised that subject before. They all just assumed that he could handle anything that life threw at him. It seemed that so far they were right. But that didn't mean he didn't need to talk sometimes. 

"You don't even know, do you?" she went on, observing his expression. "Well, you know where I am if _you_ need to talk." 

"Hey," he managed to get out. "Since when did this become about me?" 

She fixed him with a neutrally blank look. "Since Christmas," she said simply. 

Scott tensed. He'd been doing well putting that behind him. They'd both decided to pretend it hadn't happened. It was simpler that way. But now that she'd mentioned it, he found he couldn't stop his mind wandering in that direction. Nor could he stop the jolt of emotion he'd felt and repressed once he'd realised what she was planning to say to Alan: that traitorous strand of hope. Not for the first time, he felt like the worst big brother in the world. 

"Stop that," she said softly. 

"Stop what?"

"Beating yourself up. It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't." He took a deep breath, finally reaching the point where he had to voice the nagging suspicion at the back of his mind. "Did...uh... It had a lot to do with what you just did…didn’t it?” 

She paused, her expression thoughtful. "It did.”

He glanced down at the flagstones, a ripple of guilt flooding his thoughts. He'd never meant to hurt Alan. Tin-Tin and his youngest brother were never well matched, and it was bound to have happened sometime. He knew that. He just wished he hadn't been involved. 

A faint blush crossing her cheeks, she continued. "Don’t do that, don’t feel guilty. It isn't your fault, Scott."

He knew she meant well, and there was truth in her words. But it wasn't that easy to ignore his gut feeling. Silence hung between them, broken only by the splashing of Gordon's backstroke lengths of the pool. 

"Everyone knows I don't love him," she said after a moment. "And after considering a lot of things, I realised I was never going to. I knew that before, if you remember, but things got in the way. He deserves a chance to find what he wants with someone else. And thinking of myself..." She shrugged. "It will do me good to be on my own for a while. Well, as much as one can be alone on an island. After that..." Another shrug, a little more embarrassed this time. "Well, I guess we'll see." 

He nodded wordlessly. "I guess we will."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the longest and most serious/mildly angsty chapter. Things will pick up from next chapter, I promise!
> 
> Ever wondered what happened when Scott and Tin-Tin spent two days Christmas shopping on the mainland? Me too. Here's one possibility.

**Chapter Two.**

 

It took him a while, but Alan eventually started talking to Tin-Tin again. At first he was coolly polite, only speaking when necessary. Then he had a month on duty on Thunderbird 5, which gave him time to think, and seemed to help somewhat. When he'd come back, things had settled down almost to what they were. 

Tin-Tin herself had been enjoying single life, taking the time to get her head together and her feelings in order. Once she'd done that, she'd taken a proper look at her life and realised with a jolt that it had barely changed. She felt awful. Alan had wanted a girlfriend, and she'd been possibly the most unsuitable woman for the job. She was ashamed that she'd let it go on so long. 

Surprisingly, he seemed to have come to the same conclusion. On his first day back from space, he'd sought her out and apologised for the argument, and had followed it up with the admission that he thought she'd done the right thing (punch in the face notwithstanding – she’d already apologised multiple times for that). From that point on, their friendship had tentatively renewed itself. 

Tin-Tin always felt a wave of relief when he flew off to the mainland for a date. It eased her guilty conscience. Guilt had been her constant shadow for far too long. She was getting tired of it, although she didn’t feel enough time had passed to let herself off the hook. Whenever Alan returned, she interrogated him to find out how his evening had been, teasing out strands of information like unravelling wool from a sweater. The more he spoke about other women, the better she felt. 

The other Tracys had just about stopped asking how she was. She was touched that they all cared, but she didn't like to be smothered. Only Gordon continued to ask on an almost-daily basis, because he knew it annoyed her. There was no maliciousness behind it, he just thought it was hilarious to see her glaring at him. She knew he was trying to make her smile, and it worked, so she forgave him. That didn't mean she didn't pelt him with cushions every time he asked, though. 

On one occasion, when he'd been in a rare serious mood, he'd asked her and meant it, and she'd reassured him that all was well. Unlike everyone else, he'd looked decidedly unconvinced, and had made some off-hand comment about Scott. She couldn't remember what it was exactly, only that the look he gave her sent a ripple of alarm through her. Gordon was far more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for, but he was subtle with it, injecting enough levity to knock his own credibility slightly askew. When he didn't say anything more, Tin-Tin had put it down to her imagination, determined to assume that Gordon knew nothing. 

She hadn't avoided Scott. On the contrary, she'd carried on as normal, never hesitating to seek him out when her job or her conversation needed his attention. Still, she was faintly taken aback by how often he sneaked his way into her thoughts. Had that been the case before? She wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps she'd simply not noticed. Either way, it was troubling. Despite what had happened at Christmas, it seemed grossly unfair to Alan to even consider getting involved with one of his brothers. After everything, she owed him that much. And so, she'd resigned herself to her fate: what had happened at Christmas was going to torture her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her good intentions turned out to be embarrassingly flimsy. Scott still drew her in, even without trying. She knew he suffered the same torture. The guilt got to him perhaps more than it got to her, but that wasn’t all. She’d been hesitant to acknowledge the possibility that the guilt wasn’t _all_ that bothered him. She knew full well that she was risking her heart to even _consider_ that he felt the other side of it too, but she was starting to detect things that could not be denied. As she found herself caught up in the exhausting habit of noticing every little thing there was to notice about him, it occurred to her that perhaps he was doing the same. Perhaps there was more scrutiny in his seemingly-casual glances than there appeared. He cared for her, she'd always known that. She was almost family, the same way that her father, Brains, and Lady Penelope were almost family, and if there was one thing Scott never held back on, it was caring for the people who mattered. The way he cared about her, however, was different. Instinctively she knew it, even though the part of her that suffered with low self-esteem kept telling her otherwise. The fact that nobody had seemed to notice was a testament to his control. It was humbling, all of it. She didn’t know quite how to react. 

When she thought about their shared past, which she tried to avoid doing for obvious reasons, there were one or two pieces of evidence that had slipped through his defences. Not least were his playful comments about her choice of swimwear. It was the most unsubtle he was capable of being. The rest were little things: times when she’d caught a certain expression on his face when he’d seen her with Alan, times when she’d glanced up unexpectedly and met his gaze, times when they’d been alone, (for whatever reason), and he’d been unusually tense, and times when Lady Penelope had made attempts to engage him in some causal flirting, to which he’d been increasingly, and rather endearingly, oblivious. 

The evidence seemed conclusive, and yet she couldn’t accept it. It was too…unlikely. What could she possibly have to offer a man who could, and pretty much did, have any woman he wanted? But he wouldn’t toy with her, she knew that. So that implied something more, something thrilling and terrifying and depressing. Something she couldn’t even admit, even in her head. It probably wasn’t true. Just her overworked imagination. And even if it was true, she’d never know. His self-control was too strong. Save for that one time, his only slip-up. 

Tin-Tin put down the book she was supposed to be reading, realising that she’d been on the same page for the past fifteen minutes. Letting out a brief grumble, she raised it again, determined to focus. She couldn’t afford to think about it. It hurt, and the guilt was still there. But her mind never seemed to pay attention to her wishes. Inevitably, she thought back to that time, almost four months ago. 

* * *

It was December 21st, and the island was in uproar preparing for its special guest, a child from Coralville Children’s Hospital. Most of the patients were terminal, and Mr. Tracy had felt very strongly about giving one child the experience of a lifetime to brighten their short lives. They all wished they could do more, but there were some people in the world who were beyond even International Rescue’s help.

Tin-Tin had let herself get caught up in the excitement. She liked having a lot to think about. She and Alan had been growing apart, despite his attempts to fish for reassurance at the Paradise Peaks Hotel. He’d asked her about Cass Carnaby, and there had been barely a trace of his usual all-consuming jealousy. Not that there was anything for him to be jealous of. She’d had fun accepting compliments from a famous musician, but that had been the extent of it. It could have been much more if she’d let it. She’d chosen not to. At the time she’d not been entirely sure why, since Cass had long been a crush of hers, and she probably would have enjoyed dating him. She’d attributed it to Alan at first. Now she was unsure, and she didn’t like it. 

Living with the Tracy brothers, (all fine, good-looking young men in their own right), and being the only young woman on the island for them to pay attention to, was something Tin-Tin enjoyed on a purely shallow level. She loved them all too much for it to get uncomfortable, and they her. When she’d hooked up with Alan, even though their relationship wasn’t exclusive, there’d been no jealousy among the brothers. She didn’t think they thought of her that way, and she’d been able to spend time with them without awkwardness. 

But then Scott’s beloved Thunderbird 1 had been shot down in the desert, and he’d stopped responding to communications. All of a sudden, Tin-Tin had developed an urgent smoking habit and a penchant for biting her nails. She’d not known what worry was until that moment. It had pulled her thoughts up short, and she’d been forced to face some difficult truths. Scott had gotten under her skin, and after noticing it once, she couldn’t help noticing it every time she saw him. She’d brushed it aside, convinced that it would pass and that she’d fall in love with Alan the way she was supposed to. In hindsight, she knew she should have ended things then and there. Hindsight was smug that way. 

Steadily, over the following months, it became increasingly hard to ignore, and put her feelings for Alan in perspective, which seemed entirely unfair. He could be very sweet, and she was sure she’d feel something more than the warm affection she currently felt towards him. Their relationship was comfortable, in every aspect. But, a disloyal little voice told her, some aspects of a relationship weren’t supposed to be only comfortable. 

Realising she was being unfair to Alan, she’d cautiously suggested that they take a break. Alan had met the suggestion with annoyance, and the whole thing had spiralled into an argument. She’d declared them over, and had hurried away to keep herself busy with the Christmas prep. 

When Mr. Tracy assigned the task of present-buying on the mainland to Scott and her, she smiled, already looking forward to hitting the shops and burying her irritation over the argument. She took shopping very seriously, and was rivalled in her success only by Penelope, whose seemingly-unlimited budget gave her an unfair advantage. It wasn't until later, when she was strapped in the co-pilot's chair of the Ladybird jet with Scott barely half a foot away, that the butterflies decided to take up residence in her stomach, reminding her rather cruelly that her companion for the day was the guy she couldn’t get out of her head. He was wearing his aviator shades, and was managing to look effortlessly cool as only he could. She slipped her own shades on, and smirked. They looked good together, she knew. It wasn't boasting, it was just one of those things. Undeniable, like whenever Virgil took Penelope out, his gentle charisma paired with her timeless grace. They made a handsome couple, and nobody could dispute it. 

Scott cut into her thoughts, asking whether there was much to get. With some dry irony, she held up the list that Mr. Tracy had given her. The expression on Scott's face mirrored how her own had looked when she had first seen it. It was the length of at least five sheets of paper, covered with a mixture of Grandma Tracy's blocky, old fashioned handwriting, Jeff's neat scrawl, and her father's clumsy print. 

"That's a joke, right?" Scott said, sounding more than a little unsure. "Tell me it's a joke."

"Why, are you amused?" she asked sweetly. 

The radio crackled to life, informing them that they were clear for take-off. 

"Is all this stuff absolutely necessary?" Scott said wearily. 

"Yyyess," Jeff answered, sarcasm creeping into his slightly confused tone. "Otherwise you might fly into something." 

"Not what I meant, and you know it!" he snapped back, guiding the little jet down the runway. "This isn't a list, it's an inventory! We're off duty!"

"Your point being?"

"This is clearly a military operation. We're unprepared. Tin-Tin's wearing heels!" 

"Quit your complaining and concentrate on your flying! That was the worst take-off I've seen from you in a long time. Jeff out." 

Scott let out a huff of mild irritation. He knew his take-off had been perfect, as it always was. Tin-Tin smiled, neatly folding the list. 

"I already asked your father about this," she told him. "He says at least half of it is pre-ordered stuff that we just have to pick up. He's written the shops in brackets at the side."

Scott acknowledged her words with a nod. "I really hate shopping," he announced. 

"Come on now, Scott, it might be fun! Shopping is an endurance sport, you’re good at those. And at least you're off duty for a few hours."

"There is that," he conceded. "I guess it'll be okay. I mean, how bad can it be?" 

When they reached their destination and surveyed the seething crowds of shoppers, they both knew immediately just how bad it could be. 

"Why do people leave it to the last minute?" Scott grumbled.

" _We're_ leaving it to the last minute," Tin-Tin pointed out. 

"That's different!"

"Are you going to complain this much all day?"

"I might," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "It's a perk of being off duty."

Tin-Tin took an unwilling, clumsy step forward as she was elbowed aside by an enthusiastic customer. Scott automatically put a protective arm around her shoulders. She sternly told herself not to read too much into it. He was being kind. 

"Where do we start?" he asked. 

Fighting to keep the blush from her cheeks, she studied the list. "I...uh...hmm. Gosh. I think we need to strategize." 

"Great! I need a coffee. There's a place over there." 

He pointed to a shop on the opposite side of the mall. A thick layer of people crowded the way, moving like a parade of determined ants. They both stood and stared for a moment, wondering how they were going to cut through, and whether it was really worth it. 

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Do you really, really need coffee?" 

She knew the answer, and he didn't disappoint. "Yup. Come on, deep breath." 

He darted forward, plunging into the crowd, and she hurried to catch up. She almost lost him, her petite stature making it difficult for her to see over people's heads. He reached back an arm, and she grabbed his hand thankfully, letting him pull her through. 

By some miracle, there was a free table near the door. Tin-Tin pounced on it immediately, letting Scott pay for the drinks. He sat patiently while she pored over the list, rewriting it on the back in an order that made the most sense based on the location of each shop. After that, and after the coffee had gone, there was nothing to keep them from facing the madness outside. 

"I really don't think we're going to get all of this done in the time we have," Tin-Tin spoke up, biting her lip. 

"I concur. Let's see where we are at 4:30, then we can decide what to do."

As it turned out, they'd not made as much of an impact on the list as they'd hoped. The jet was in a secure facility, so they loaded up what they'd bought, and hunted for a hotel to check into. Scott radioed the island to let them know what was going on. There was some minor embarrassment at the foyer when the receptionist mistook them for a couple, but they were soon on their way up to the 25th floor. 

They settled into their rooms, were apologised to multiple times about the fact that there was a connecting door they didn't ask for, then headed down to dinner. Tin-Tin had mixed feelings about the cosy, candlelit tables in the restaurant. She was no stranger to intimate dinners. Every man she'd ever dated had known how to treat her well. There was a little awkwardness when she thought about dining with Scott that way, but she soon relaxed as they chatted, expressing their mutual admiration for the quality of the hotel, and discussing plans for the following day. They'd booked their rooms for two nights, just in case, and had purchased provisions, as Tin-Tin had firmly declared that she couldn't go without deodorant and clean underwear. 

The food was surprisingly good. While they were waiting for dessert, Tin-Tin couldn't help but notice the admiring glances that Scott was receiving, from an impressive range of ages. 

"What?" he asked her, observing her smirk over the top of his wine glass. 

"Oh...nothing."

"I disagree, Miss Kyrano. Since I'm paying for dinner, the least you could do is tell me what's amusing you."

She leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her clasped hands. "Well, Mr. Tracy, since you put it that way. I was amused by the looks you're receiving. At least half the women in the restaurant, and the blonde waitress, and the gay bartender."

"Uh huh," he said, nodding. Being looked at didn't faze him. "And what about yours?"

"My what?"

"Looks. You've been admired by at least seven men since we've been here." 

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Have I? I didn't notice."

Scott smiled affectionately, apparently thinking of something he kept to himself. "No, you really didn't, did you? You genuinely have no idea." 

She frowned, fixing him with a sharp look. "About what?"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Why? Have I got something on my face? Is that what they're staring at?" 

It was partly paranoia, and partly for effect, to see what he'd say next. Tin-Tin didn't always understand what men saw in her, but she wasn't ignorant of the fact that they saw _something_. She knew she shouldn't bait him, but she couldn't help herself. 

He met her gaze for a long moment, perhaps sussing if she was fishing for compliments.

"No," he said simply, and didn't elaborate. "I've been getting quite a few glares from your admirers," he went on. "Guess they think we're a couple too."

"I can't blame them."

"No. It does look that way. Sorry." 

"What for?"

"I thought it might be awkward for you, you know, because of Alan."

Tin-Tin felt a wave of guilt that she'd barely spared a thought for Alan all day. 

"It's not awkward," she said. "We...I don't know what will happen. We've been growing apart. And we argued before I left. I... I tried to say I needed a break, but he wouldn't have it. I broke things off, but the conversation isn't over.” 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Scott said with a frown. 

She shrugged, making it seem more casual than it was. "Maybe it's time." 

"You've been together for a long time."

"Sort of. We were never really official. Other people made it so, throwing us together. Like your grandmother, for instance. I'll always be very fond of Alan, but people grow apart for all sorts of reasons. It might be foolish to ignore that and carry on regardless." 

"I guess," he said, fidgeting in his seat. "You should discuss this with him."

She glanced down at the tablecloth, a blush sweeping her cheeks. "Of course. Sorry, Scott." 

"Hey, don't be."

He gave her a reassuring smile, but there was a hint of distraction in it. She wondered what he was thinking about. He hadn't been distracted before she'd mentioned her troubles with Alan. With a jolt, a whisper of suspicion materialised. Surely he didn't... She couldn't even complete the thought. It wasn't possible. 

The waitress arrived with their desserts, and the conversation moved on, much to Tin-Tin's relief. There was no more awkwardness for the remainder of the evening, until they'd both retired, and Scott had knocked on the connecting door in search of toothpaste. She was in her underwear, so she made him close his eyes, which he obediently did, despite pointing out that it was no different to when she swam in a bikini. She didn't comment, but it _was_ different. Vastly so. 

If he peeked while she was fumbling with the lid of the toothpaste, he gave no indication. She squeezed some paste onto his new toothbrush and bade him goodnight, shutting the door and leaning back against it. She wasn’t actually embarrassed, not really. Why? Then it hit her. She thought he was too noble to look, but she didn’t mind if he did.

Unthinkingly, she buried her face in her hands, whacking herself on the forehead with the tube of toothpaste. She gave a soft yelp, more in surprise than pain, then collapsed into giggles. With two large glasses of wine inside her, it seemed remarkably funny. 

“Are you okay in there?” Scott asked through the door. 

“I’m fine,” she called back. “Just having a blonde moment.” 

“Don’t let Penelope hear you say that.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Scott.”

“G’night.” 

The following day they both awoke with a single-minded determination to conquer the list. At nine a.m. sharp they were in the first shop. By five, they’d completed their mission and the jet was packed and ready to go. 

Scott declared himself too exhausted to fly back, and radioed the island to report in. It was mostly true, Tin-Tin guessed. He _was_ tired, and every pilot knew the dangers of flying without sufficient rest. But on the other hand, the International Rescue boys were trained to operate under harsh conditions. She was pretty sure he could have made the flight back if he really put his mind to it. She was secretly rather glad that he’d chosen to stay. He was more relaxed when off duty, and she felt it was good for him. On a more selfish basis, she was enjoying the time they were spending together. The butterflies and the constant feeling of hyper-awareness were addicting. 

They ate another nice dinner in the hotel restaurant, taking turns to keep tally counts of the other’s admirers. Once or twice, Tin-Tin caught herself actually flirting with him, which embarrassed and thrilled her in equal measure, especially when he responded in kind. Occasionally, a brief look of concern or self-reprimand crossed his face, and she realised that he was saying things almost against his will, aware that it would probably hurt Alan’s feelings if he knew. She had no remedy to offer him, because despite that knowledge, she couldn’t help herself either. 

Out of nowhere, she was struck with the dizzying feeling that they were caught up in something that was bigger than they were, something they couldn’t fight, like the undertow of the tide. She met Scott’s gaze, the flickering candle flame reflected in his eyes, turning their usual azure calmness into an unexpected smoulder. He did not look like a man who was enjoying a nice relaxing dinner, but one whose mind was working overtime. She couldn’t help but think that he felt a little of what she was feeling. 

Back in her room, she kicked off her shoes, enjoying the feeling of the soft carpet under her sore feet. Tin-Tin was a natural in high-heeled shoes, but two whole days of shopping in them was not one of her best ideas. She threw her jacket over a chair and began to pace, agitated, excited, confused. He’d come knocking on her door soon, she knew. In search of the toothpaste again. 

She bit her lip in thought. She knew what she wanted to do, and what was the right thing to do. They were not one and the same. She spent her life doing the right thing, sacrificing some freedoms for the sake of the organisation and the people it served. She never minded. On a more personal level, she’d given up a lot to keep Alan happy, and hadn’t received quite what she’d hoped in return. It wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

She came to a sudden halt. She had to end it for good. She had to end it, because it wasn't him she wanted. It was simple, really. In theory, at least.

There came a soft tap on the connecting door. With a sense of calm that surprised her, she crossed the room to open it. Scott gave her an apologetic smile, and she allowed herself a moment to study him. He was all confidence. He didn't know how else to be. A man who was fully aware of how handsome he was, how smart, how quick-witted, but with absolutely no trace of arrogance. She wondered how he kept all of that in balance, and how he managed to be so perfect without being dull. But of course, she was biased. 

"Are you okay? You're just...staring at me."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip. "Oh. Um...sorry. I was thinking." 

"What about?"

"Despite the mission, I've had a nice time away," she said truthfully. 

"Me too."

"You know how to treat a lady."

"I should hope so." 

Taking her courage in both hands, she stepped forward and lightly pressed her lips to his. He moved back half a step.

"Whoa. What are you doing?"

She hesitated. What _was_ she doing?

"You're drunk," he said gently. 

"I'm tipsy," she corrected. "It doesn't make any difference. I'm...I suppose I'm doing what I want."

"And what about Alan?"

"We’re not…I said we were over. I'm going to end it properly. After Christmas. I've decided. He won't even notice me while Penelope's staying. When we're both in the room, he…"

"Always looks at her," he cut in. "I know. I've noticed."

Shyly, she placed her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers. "But you look at me," she went on. "I've...seen you."

He paused, then nodded wordlessly.

"Why?" She felt it was a question that needed to be asked. 

He paused again, seemingly searching for the right thing to say. Finally he sighed. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No. You're unreadable."

"Well of course I'm unreadable," he muttered, contradicting himself. "You're my brother's girlfriend."

She sensed that that was as much of an admission as she was going to get. "You give up so much for the others," she said softly. "More than they know. You're strong, but who is there for you? You protect all of them, your father _and_ your brothers."

"It's my duty."

"It's your compulsion. Why do you think I bring you coffee when you're too busy to ask for it? It's the only way I can support you."

"I just thought you could read my mind."

"Scott, I'm being serious."

"I know," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"I wish I _could_ read your mind. Because maybe then I'd know what to do. Right now, I mean." 

He held her gaze for a long, drawn out moment. Not because he had nothing to say, she realised, but so she'd treat it seriously when he _did_ say something. 

"We can't," he spoke up at length. "It's not fair on Alan. I don't know that it ever would be, even if you did break up for good." 

She nodded. The rational side of her agreed, and she'd known he was going to say something like that. 

He let out a sigh. "I was hoping we'd never need to have this conversation. I'd pretty much convinced myself that it was only me who was getting hurt." 

She shook her head, slightly amazed that he could have thought that way at all. "So…" she began, "whatever this is...this is all it may ever be?" The thought made her chest ache.

Scott struggled with his answer, most likely choosing the one that would turn out to be true.   
Finally, he settled on, "Probably." 

Outwardly, his demeanour didn’t alter, but she could see how torn up he was. For once he let his guard down and let her in, and didn’t hide how he was feeling. 

For the second time, Tin-Tin rose up on tiptoe and kissed him. He tensed and moved her backwards, his hands gentle but firm on her shoulders. Before he could put his mixed expression into words and chide her, she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

“This is all this may ever be,” she reminded him. “I…I just…” With an irritated huff, she snapped, “Be selfish just this once, Scott, _please_. I don’t…”

The pressure of his lips on hers cut her off. One arm was around her waist, the other hand at the back of her neck, making her skin tingle pleasantly. She scarcely remembered tangling her arms around him, pressing herself closer than was wise. He tasted of coffee, with a faint touch of cigarette smoke, and an even fainter touch of wine. It was inherently _Scott_ and entirely what she’d imagined. 

They both knew that one kiss was all they had, and that it wasn’t enough. They both knew they wanted more, and the longer they clung to each other, the more they became aware of just how easy it would be to give in. But they couldn’t. It wasn’t right. And with that heavy knowledge, they broke apart, both breathless, both with hearts too full for words. 

There was a lengthy moment of silence. They gazed at each other without awkwardness, taking the opportunity to comprehend what each understood of the other. Then, inevitably, the mood was broken and Scott looked at the floor, running a hand through his hair. 

"I shouldn't have done that," he said. 

Tin-Tin swallowed a lump in her throat. She would not cry. Not now. "I...I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

She appreciated him saying so, but she knew it was. She was the one who had pushed him.

"I just want to..." she began. "If...if you regret it, please keep it to yourself. I'm not brave enough to hear it, I'm afraid." 

A flicker of a frown crossed his brow. He cupped her face in his hands and fixed her with an earnest stare. "Tin-Tin, whatever happens in the future, however I act, know this: I will _never_ regret it. I just...shouldn't have done it. We both know that." 

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly. 

He let his hands drop to his sides and he took a step backwards. "I'm going to go through that door and go to bed," he said firmly, "and in the morning we're going to fly home. Everything will be as it was."

"Okay." She gave a nod, ignoring the slight crack in her voice. 

With one last, encouraging smile, he turned resolutely away and closed the door behind him. Tin-Tin closed her own door and spent several minutes standing perfectly still in the middle of her room, letting her mind process everything that had happened. She didn't cry, which surprised her. She'd been expecting to. But she was always stronger than she thought she was, and this was no exception. She'd do as he asked, carry on as normal, put it behind her. She only hoped it would get easier. 

* * *

It hadn't, of course. Nothing was ever easy, especially living as they did. The house was spacious, but even still, there were limited places to escape to on an island. Not that she'd really tried to escape. She still enjoyed Scott's company, and she continued to bring him coffee. 

Her plans to permanently end things with Alan after Christmas hadn't worked out. In early January, he'd received word that one of his racing driver friends had been killed in a crash. She'd stayed by his side while he grieved, and they’d all but picked up where they’d been before, as if he'd forgotten that they'd essentially broken up.

During February he got over it, but it still didn't seem fair to spring the news on him. So she waited, aware that Alan was puzzled by her lack of physical affection but unwilling to say anything. Scott was his usual considerate self, but for one occasion when he'd sent her a look that was half pain, half gratitude. He'd known what she was doing and why. He'd appreciated her thoughtfulness, but it still hurt him to see her with Alan. It was this that caused her to pause in thought, and she'd realised just how good she'd become at reading his expressions. 

In March, she'd woken up and known that the day had arrived. The argument had been awful, but they were past it now. One problem was solved, but the other... Not even close. 

She sighed and closed her book. She was neglecting it anyway, getting lost in dangerous memories. Something had to give, and she wasn't entirely sure what, or what would happen when it did. All she could do, as always, was carry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I remember in one of the Thunderbirds movies there was a weird dream sequence thing where Alan imagines going on a night out with Lady Penelope, (which really confused my mum because she was convinced that Penny was Alan's real mother! I don't buy it!), so I vaguely hinted at his slight interest here.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And now the second half of the summary will make sense!

**Chapter Three.**

 

It was a quiet night, the air con kept his room at the perfect temperature, and his bed was super comfy, yet Gordon couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the first time, and the reason was the same. He was getting sick of it. He wasn’t the only one, he’d picked up on that, but everyone else seemed to be willing – if not exactly content – to pretend nothing was amiss and hope that the problem would solve itself. Gordon was deeply cynical about that likelihood. His oldest brother may be ruthlessly efficient at picking up a girl, much more so than any of the rest of them, (it pained him to admit it, but only he would know he’d done so), but when it came to matters that involved actual feelings, Scott was clearly useless. 

“Guess I’m the one who’s gotta fix this,” Gordon said to his ceiling. 

The ceiling didn’t answer back, which was good. That meant he hadn’t fallen into total sleep-deprived insanity just yet. 

He ventured from his room, padding the dim corridors and enjoying the silence. The rooms were soundproofed. Jeff claimed that it was a thoughtful consideration for everyone seeing as how they were a pretty full house, but Gordon suspected it was because his father had grown up trying to sleep with the sound of Grandma’s snoring through his wall. Now that he had a house of his own, he could ensure that that never happened again. Gordon didn’t blame him. Every time Grandma dozed off in a pool lounger, he had to try and drown out her best Harley Davidson impression while he swam. 

The soundproofing benefitted everyone, to be sure, but it also meant he had no fear of being overheard as he stood in the semi-dark lounge and called John. His second-oldest brother usually attempted to stick to their time zone, but he kept odd hours in space. Gordon was hoping he was awake, because a John woken from his beauty sleep was not something he wanted to deal with right then. Sure enough, when John’s image appeared on the screen, he was still dressed, platinum blond hair immaculate. 

“Gordon,” he said in surprise. “I was just about to turn in. Isn’t it the middle of the night there?”

“How much conditioner _do_ you actually use?” Gordon asked him thoughtfully. “Like, on average per month. I’m genuinely interested to know.”

A look of put-upon weariness crossed John’s aristocratic features. “You called me for that?”

“No. It just caught my eye. It’s so shiny!”

John sighed, but countered the comment with, “Are there…sharks on your pyjamas?” 

Gordon looked down at the t-shirt and shorts he wore for sleeping. “Sharks are cool.” 

“Wow. Solid scientific argument. What did you actually call for?”

“I need you to pull your land-time forward a week,” Gordon said, jumping right in. 

John, understandably, looked suspicious. “Why?”

“I miss you?” Gordon said unconvincingly.

“Try again.”

“Okay. Basically, I need Alan on Thunderbird 5,” he explained.

John folded his arms, fixing him with a big brother stare. It didn’t quite have the impact that Scott’s did, but it was a notable effort. “What scheme are you concocting that’s so bad you need to send him off the planet?” 

“I’m not concocting any schemes,” Gordon answered truthfully. “Yet.” 

“Gordon, if this is a prank, so help me…”

“It’s not a prank! Why does everyone always think that?”

“Can’t imagine,” John said wryly. 

“Look, I need to do something about Scott and Tin-Tin, which means that Alan needs to start his tenure in space a little early. That’s all.”

“Ooh, tenure!” John teased him. “Pretty fancy words coming out your mouth, little brother.” 

Gordon scoffed. “Yeah, well…I’m not the only one with…fancy things in their mouth.” 

John stared at him in silence for a good three seconds. “Wow,” he stated flatly. 

“Shut up, I’m tired. You come up with a decent comeback when the house is full of angst!” 

“What angst?”

“Scott and Tin-Tin,” Gordon said a touch huffily. “They’re nauseatingly crazy about each other but too stubborn and noble to do anything about it just in case it hurts Alan’s feelings.”

“What’s it got to do with him?” John asked with a frown. “They broke up!”

“Exactly! And I can’t take the tension anymore, it’s driving me insane. The sullen silences, the not-so-stealthy looks, the…the… _pining_. It’s disgusting. Someone has to do something, and it might as well be me.” 

“Sooo…” John prompted, waving a hand in a circular motion. 

Gordon glared at him, but acquiesced. “So I need you to please call Dad in the morning and say you need to come down here early.”

John struck a ‘thinking’ pose worthy of a bad stock photo collection. “It _would_ be nice to see some sun.”

“Yes,” Gordon agreed enthusiastically. “You deserve it, you’ve been up there such a long time.”

“Hmm. Okay. I’ll do it, but you gotta make it worth my while.”

“How? I’m not scrubbing Thunderbird 3 by hand again.” 

“Damn right, you’re not. It looked terrible when you’d finished it,” John said adamantly, missing Gordon’s secret smile of triumph. “How about this? Next time you have a date, you have to wear those pyjamas to it.”

“Fine,” Gordon said with a casual shrug.

John looked taken aback, slanting a sceptical brow. “Really?”

Gordon grinned at him confidently. “I told you, sharks are cool. And I’m only going to date people who agree with that, so it’ll be fine.” 

His brother sighed heavily, but wore a fond smile. “Fine. I’ll call Dad in the morning. Now go get some sleep.” 

Feeling accomplished, Gordon headed to do just that. If all went well, Alan would depart after breakfast. He could start his work as early as tomorrow. Scott would thank him in the end. Tin-Tin too. 

Or rather, he _hoped_ they would.

* * *

Tin-Tin had spent an exhausting morning testing hoverbikes that Brains had modified, racing them up and down the beach to see if their speed and handling had been improved to the extent that he had intended. It had been fun work, if tiring. She’d been unexpectedly thrown off a few times when the bike had turned more sharply than she’d anticipated, but once she got used to it, she was performing neat manoeuvres across the beach, having an absolute blast. 

She brushed the sand from her clothes before entering the house, washed her hands and joined the family for lunch. Jeff and Grandma Tracy were there, arguing good naturedly about whether or not a popular singer had a good voice. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were also present, too busy filling their plates to weigh in an opinion. Alan had already left to swap with John, who’d called saying he felt under the weather, asking to return early. Alan hadn’t minded. Brains chose to eat in his lab, as usual, and her father preferred to eat alone. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she announced, taking a seat between Virgil and Mrs. Tracy. 

“You’re lucky there’s some food left,” Virgil said with a grin, passing her a plate of bread rolls. 

“Very lucky,” she agreed, taking one. 

She wasn’t even joking. The Tracy boys put away a ridiculous amount of food, between them eating more in a single sitting than she managed in a week. Fortunately, they countered it with the rigorous training required for their jobs. 

She buttered her precious acquisition, and filled it with cold chicken and salad before taking a bite. Gordon chose that moment to speak up.

“Talking of musicians, remember Cass Carnaby? Wouldn’t it have been swell if Tin-Tin had dated him?”

Tin-Tin halted chewing, fixing him with a bewildered look. 

“How exactly would it have been swell?” Jeff said with a frown. “Her picture would have been splashed across every gossip column from here to the moon. Not ideal for our secrecy policy.”

Tin-Tin managed a nod, swallowing her mouthful of roll. 

“Oh come on, Dad, our secrecy policy is chock full of holes anyway! I mean, the number of people who’ve heard our surname before…” Gordon trailed off as Jeff fixed him with a hard stare.

“What point are you trying to make, Gordon?” 

“I just think it would be neat to date a famous person,” Gordon said, switching direction as he tossed a baby tomato into his mouth and stored it in his cheek like a squirrel so he could keep talking. “Don’t you think, guys?”

Virgil shrugged, non-committal, and Scott sent Gordon a narrow-eyed look that bordered on suspicious. 

Gordon wasn’t deterred. “I mean, Tin-Tin scrubs up well…”

“Thank you,” she interjected sardonically. 

“…they would have made a cute couple.”

She was amused by his words, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scott give a small, disapproving head shake.

“I should have made some toffee,” Mrs. Tracy ruminated, almost to herself. “Glue his mouth shut.”

Tin-Tin stifled a giggle. 

“Don’t meddle, Gordon,” Virgil said, tone gently admonishing. “If Tin-Tin had wanted to date him, she would have.” 

She sent him a small, grateful smile, taking another bite of her roll. 

Gordon nodded, swallowing the tomato. “I’m not meddling, just speculating.”

“Well don’t,” Scott said sharply, pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

Silence fell for a short time, and Tin-Tin finished her roll. Then Gordon piped up again, cutting over Jeff’s anecdote about something he’d read in the paper.

“Say, Tin-Tin, do you ever hear from Eddie Houseman?” 

Well and truly baffled by the conversation, she stared at him in confusion. “No. Why?” 

“Just wondering,” Gordon said innocently. “I thought you were close. Wondered if we’d be seeing him again now that you’re not with Alan.” 

“Drop it, Gordon,” Scott said, a warning tone underlining the words. 

Gordon held up his hands peaceably, and fell miraculously silent. A tiny, troublesome smile played at the corners of his mouth, which worried her immensely. She felt sure he was planning something. She only hoped it didn’t involve inviting Eddie or Cass for a visit, or anything crazy like that. It sounded like he was trying to set her up.

Scott drained his coffee, not quite scowling but certainly looking disgruntled. Tin-Tin watched him, wondering what he was thinking. She’d never known what his opinion of her old flames was, if he even had one. All things considered, she’d rather the subject hadn’t been raised, particularly in light of Christmas and her break-up with Alan. 

Even though Jeff started up a new, safe topic, she finished up quickly so she could leave the table as soon as possible, acutely aware when Scott beat her to it by six minutes. 

* * *

Treading water at the deep end of the pool, Gordon was holding an important meeting with his two cohorts. Neither John nor Virgil looked pleased to be counted as such, but they hadn’t swum away yet. That was a plus.

“The jealousy tactic holds merit,” he announced to them both. “Scott didn’t like it when I mentioned Cass or Eddie.”

“None of us liked it, Gordon,” Virgil spoke up with a frown. “It was really awkward, and you’re as subtle as _Fireflash_.” 

“But I got the results I wanted,” Gordon argued, as serious about his research and development as Brains was with his. “Now it’s time to bring in the big guns.”

“Heaven help us all,” John muttered under his breath. 

“Virgil, go call Lady Penelope,” Gordon went on, ignoring him. “I need her to invite Tin-Tin to something swanky, then contrive it so that Scott has to go too to…keep an eye on her or something. Tell her to tell him that she’s setting Tin-Tin up with one of her posh friends.” 

“Oh, is that all?” Virgil said, amused. “What makes you think Penny will want to take part in your little schemes?”

“She’s a secret agent, she’ll love a good scheme,” Gordon said with confidence.

Virgil sighed, but obediently set off on a leisurely breaststroke to the far end of the pool. 

“I’m on to you,” John spoke up levelly.

Gordon shot him a glance, taking a brief moment to grudgingly admire John’s water-treading posture that was enabling him to keep his hair well out of the pool. He made a mental note to accidentally splash him later. 

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“Look, when you called me I thought you were messing around or seeing something that’s not there,” John admitted. “But you’re right, there’s definitely something different. Tension, like you said.”

“It’s been like that since Christmas,” Gordon told him, “but since the break-up it’s gotten worse. I just know something happened when Scott and Tin-Tin were on the mainland, but I haven’t been able to get the story out of either of them.”

“Good,” John said with a frown. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business when they’re exchanging sad looks over the dinner table. The awkward silences have been really, _really_ awkward. Even Grandma’s noticed, and you know she always pairs up the wrong people. Something’s gotta give because I’ve had it. Had it up to here,” he said, raising a hand to demonstrate the height and accidentally – genuinely – splashing John. “Enough. Take me out the oven, because I. Am. Done.” 

“You know, I think you’re doing this because you want them to be happy,” John theorised. 

Gordon looked affronted. “How dare you! It’s purely for selfish reasons. I can’t relax with all this UST!” 

John chuckled, and they watched Virgil vault neatly out of the pool and wrap a towel around his waist before heading for the exterior steps to the lounge. 

“Shouldn’t he put a shirt on before calling Penny?” John asked.

Gordon snorted. “Nah. She won’t mind.” 

* * *

Scott stuck two fingers between his shirt collar and his neck, trying to arrange the bowtie so that it was a little less noose-like. Tin-Tin gently slapped his hand away and stepped up to straighten it. 

“Stop it, it looks perfect,” she chided. 

He didn’t say it, of course, but _she_ looked perfect, her dark hair in an elegant upsweep held with a gold clasp, her dress a flattering but modest construction in blue silk. He wasn’t sure why he was there, only that Lady Penelope had somehow managed to get him to agree to chaperone Tin-Tin while she met with some of her ladyship’s friends. It was going to be hell, and the sight of Tin-Tin dressed up to the nines was going to be torture, and why had he agreed to this again?

“You look nice,” he said, huge understatement though it was. It was expected of him to compliment her. 

She smiled. “Thank you. And you look smart.” 

Their gazes met and held, and he vaguely reminded himself that he should probably look away. It almost felt as if an entire silent conversation passed between them in mere moments. Then Penelope sauntered into the room, dressed in peach satin and white fur, and smiled at the sight of them.

“Well don’t you both look marvellous,” she said, linking her arm with Tin-Tin’s and dragging her towards the ballroom while Scott trailed behind. “I have many people I want to introduce you to, but you absolutely must meet dear Albie. He’s a young widower, very sweet but rather lonely, and he owns an estate in Hertfordshire about the same size as this one.”

Tin-Tin glanced at her. “Penelope, you’re not setting me up, are you?” She sounded genuinely alarmed, and Scott felt a ripple of annoyance at the blonde matchmaker beside her.

“Oh no, of course not, darling. I just want you to meet, and…perhaps you might take to each other.” Her wink was so over the top, even Scott saw it. 

“I’m really not looking to…” Tin-Tin began. 

“There’s no pressure at all,” Penelope said unconvincingly. “And dear Scott will keep an eye on you, won’t you?” she threw back over her shoulder. 

“Of course,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid my duties as hostess won’t allow it.” 

Scott wasn’t a fan of fancy parties, other than as a place to impress dates or to scout out people for casual, mutually beneficial overnight arrangements. He’d known just what to expect from Penelope’s soiree, and it didn’t disappoint. His uncomfortable clothes fit him well, and many people saw as much. He caught many an unsubtle stare from Penelope’s society friends, some of which were old enough to be his mother. Idly, he started considering whether Tin-Tin would have to be the one to protect _him_. 

To his annoyance, ‘dear Albie’ turned out to be handsome and charming, and Penelope was positively smug as she melted away into the crowd, leaving Tin-Tin chatting politely with the debonair young man while Scott stood awkwardly by. He sipped his one glass of champagne, determined to keep a clear head so he could fly them out of there as soon as possible, and tried to quash his irritation with the rich boy. He had no ties to Tin-Tin, they had both decided that. It was churlish of him to begrudge her a chance to be happy with someone. Still, watching her giggle at something dear Albie said made his insides churn.

He forcibly relaxed his grip on his glass, in danger of shattering Penelope’s best crystal. The last thing he needed was a lacerated hand. That would ground them for sure. Glancing around, he sought distractions. Tin-Tin was the most exotic person in the room, and he curled his lip at the lack of diversity amongst the English upper classes. No doubt some of the more bigoted land owners preferred it that way. Scott had been raised to believe in equality. The only thing he judged people on was whether or not they were an asshole. It made life pretty simple to navigate. 

A mature redhead dripping in diamonds winked at him, and he hastily looked back at Tin-Tin. Dear Albie was telling an anecdote, to which she was nodding encouragingly, and for a moment Scott couldn’t tell if she was truly engrossed in the story or being polite. Then he noticed the subtle twitch of her fingers around her champagne glass, and he inwardly smiled. She was fidgeting, (within the limits of good manners, of course), which meant she was bored. It was indecent how pleased he was about it, really. 

_Don’t be a selfish prick_ , he reminded himself sternly. 

“So, what is it you do, Miss Kyrano?” asked dear Albie. 

_Finally, thinking about something other than yourself_ , Scott thought, keeping up his silent commentary. 

“I’m personal assistant to Mr. Tracy,” Tin-Tin answered modestly, downplaying her importance as usual. 

Scott frowned. He knew it was for security that she make herself sound as ordinary as possible, but he didn’t like to see her hard work and brilliance go unacknowledged. There weren’t many people who were smart enough to assist Brains, yet Tin-Tin did it with ease. At least the family knew the truth and could praise her accordingly. 

“ _That_ Mr. Tracy?” dear Albie said, gesturing to Scott with his glass. 

Scott didn’t bother to hide his glare. 

“Oh, no. Mr. Tracy senior,” Tin-Tin smoothed over. “Scott is here as a…friend.” She stumbled just barely over the word. 

Dear Albie nodded, and seemed to come to the conclusion that he was being rude. He switched his glass to his other hand and reached out for a handshake. Scott, being the polite soul that he was, was all too happy to shake, and he smiled somewhat smugly as dear Albie winced at his grip. Tin-Tin looked between them, a spark in her mossy green eyes indicating that she knew exactly what he was doing, and was a little worried that it would get out of hand. He sent her a quick, reassuring wink. He wasn’t Alan. He wouldn’t let his temper get the best of him. Tin-Tin blushed, and he belatedly wondered if he should have used a different method of silent communication. 

He let dear Albie have his hand back, and the other man flexed it a little before maintaining a two-handed grip on his champagne glass. A tap on his shoulder had him turning, and he saw what must be one of Penelope’s friends. The woman looked like a grey-eyed clone of her, and Scott surmised that either they shared a salon, or Penny was more of a trend-setter than she made out. 

“May I help you?”

“Well, you could ask me to dance,” the woman said with a strategic giggle. 

Scott had never been one for women with false laughs, but he humoured her by masking his expression. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking to dance tonight,” he said civilly.

“Oh, go on, old chap,” dear Albie put in brightly. “Celeste is such a peach.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, but Celeste didn’t seem to mind being compared to fruit. Dear Albie had a hint of challenge in his eyes, and Scott had to yield to the handshake revenge. 

_Touché._

Since Celeste was putting on a childish pout and didn’t look set to go away, he figured it would be quicker to dance one number and then retreat.

“All right,” he conceded grudgingly. “Lead the way, miss.”

Celeste snatched hold of the hand he gestured with, and Scott let himself be pulled into the throng of dancers. Celeste wasn’t a bad dancer, but he wasn’t interested in any of her chatter. He found it difficult to relate to Penelope’s social world of horses and dogs and seasonal game shooting. He slipped into his civilian persona of wealthy retired pilot focused on the family business, trying to make himself sound as dull as possible. 

When he glanced over at Tin-Tin she was staring at him, her expression almost as sullen as his had probably been. He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Fortunately, it tied in with the end of something Celeste was saying. Tin-Tin, however, looked a touch hurt, and shifted her gaze back to dear Albie. With a determined look, she set down both their glasses and dragged him over to dance. Scott lost his levity as he watched dear Albie slip an arm around her waist and pull her close. 

_Well damn. This got ugly real quick._

Was she trying to make him jealous? She’d been slightly irritated with him for the handshake thing. But he hadn’t danced with Celeste on purpose. Surely she knew that. 

_What does it matter what she knows? We’re not going down that road._

At least, he hadn’t thought they were.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four.**

 

Gordon was certain that his plotting with Lady Penelope, (via Virgil), would yield results. Getting both of his targets dressed up in society glamour and ensuring that they’d be socialising with other people…how could it not? That said, he wanted another plan in place, if not more, just in case. With that in mind, he sought out his father. Jeff was no fool, and Gordon felt sure that he knew something was going on. Most likely he would decide to stay out of it. He wasn’t against his boys having lives outside of the organisation, provided it didn’t interfere with their duties and he didn’t have to hear any gory details. None of them had yet had a partner serious enough for security to be an issue. Gordon suspected that if any of them showed signs of wanting to marry an outsider, Jeff would jump straight into Field Commander mode and run every background check he could manage to ensure that the person in question was not a spy of some kind. 

Gordon laughed to himself at the mental image of Jeff shining a light into a hypothetical partner’s face and grilling them with questions about their loyalty. Perhaps one day, if he met someone he really cared about, the image would seem less funny, but as it stood he could only really picture it happening to Alan or John’s partners. Virgil was still mooning after Penelope, and Gordon himself had said many a time that he’d likely only settle down if mermaids turned out to be real. 

Jeff was sitting in his customary position at his desk in the lounge, but he was reading a newspaper rather than doing anything work-related. 

“Father,” Gordon greeted him. 

“Son,” Jeff replied without looking up, voice holding a heavy level of suspicion. Gordon wasn’t sure whether to be amused or insulted. 

“Is there anything you need from the mainland?” Gordon asked him. 

Jeff lowered his paper, peering at him with a slight frown. “You don’t have clearance to go to the mainland,” he said sternly. “Not with Scott and Tin-Tin away at Penny’s.”

“I’m not going to the mainland,” Gordon assured him. “I just wondered if you needed anything. And maybe Scott and Tin-Tin could take a trip to fetch it for you.” 

“What could I possibly need that would take two people to fetch?” 

Gordon shrugged. “Hell if I know, I was just wondering.”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “Gordon, are you meddling?”

Gordon stared at him in wide-eyed shock. “Meddling? Of course not. Uh…with what, I mean? What’s there to meddle with? Nothing, that’s right. Because I’m not meddling.” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Jeff asked, probably rhetorically. 

Gordon answered him anyway. “I sure hope not, or I’ve got some questions about my paternity.” 

Jeff stared him down, sighing heavily. “No, Gordon, I do not need anything from the mainland. Thank you for asking.” He raised his paper pointedly. 

“No problem,” Gordon said cheerily. “Uh…got any…road trips that would suit Scott and Tin-Tin at all?”

The paper lowered again, crumpling untidily. “Haven’t you got work to do?” 

“No,” he replied honestly, then seeing Jeff’s raised eyebrow, he swiftly amended. “I mean, yes. Going to do that right now.” 

Beaten, he retreated to the kitchen, where Grandma was rolling out pastry for that evening’s apple pie. 

“Hey, Grandma, how would you get two stubborn people to stop being stubborn and admit they’re crazy about each other?”

He dipped a finger in the bowl of pie filling, and she whacked his knuckles with her rolling pin. 

“Ow!”

“I would leave it up to nature,” she said diplomatically. “You can’t force people into relationships.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Gordon,” she addressed him in a warning tone, gesturing with the rolling pin, “you’re not stalking someone, are you?”

“No!” he protested. “It’s not about me, I swear.” 

“Hmph. Leave well enough alone,” she advised. “Unless all they need is a good talking to. That sometimes works.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I was hoping for something a little more effective.”

Absently, he reached for the bowl again, snatching his hand back when she swiped at it. 

“Go and be a pest somewhere else,” Grandma told him firmly. 

Grinning, he left, heading for somewhere quiet to think his options through. Scott and Tin-Tin weren’t due back until later that afternoon. Perhaps it would be beneficial to observe how much success his plan had had before deciding what to do next. 

* * *

“Congrats, Gordon,” Virgil said, entering the kitchen and making a beeline for the coffee-maker. “Your grand plan just made them mad at each other.”

Gordon beamed at him. “Yup. Perfect, right?”

“How?” 

“Are you kidding? You’re meant to be the arty, romantic one, how are you not understanding this?” Gordon said, frowning as he stirred sugar into his latte. “They’re mad at each other because they’re jealous. Duh!” 

“Okay,” Virgil said, drawing the word out, “but how are you going to move them from ‘mad at each other due to jealousy’ to ‘together’? As it stands right now, that’s kind of a leap.”

“I’m working on it,” Gordon assured him, blowing on the top of his drink before taking a swig. 

“Good grief,” Virgil mumbled cynically, adding milk to his own.

“Say, Virgil,” Gordon added in a worryingly calculating tone, “how can we accidentally get them locked in a room together?”

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, when they’d been back for just over a day, Scott found Tin-Tin sitting on a rock watching the incoming tide, her cheeks damp with tears. He felt a pang of guilt. 

Tin-Tin seldom cried. Not for her own sake, anyway. He'd seen her cry for her father, for Alan, for Brains, and, once, he'd heard that she'd cried for him. But for herself? Almost never. She'd often come close to it, but had always maintained control. She was a quiet, generous soul, not nearly as selfish as she seemed to think, and much lovelier. She had a habit – a bad habit – of comparing herself to Lady Penelope. It was not born out of jealousy. She simply thought she was being realistic about herself. Penelope was classier, wealthier, higher-ranking within the organisation, better educated, better dressed, and, of course, the most beautiful. 

The sophisticated English agent was indeed all of these things. It was pointless to deny it. But in Scott's opinion it made her untouchable, almost otherworldly. Tin-Tin belonged in the real world, _his_ world. She couldn't see it, but she had many skills Penelope didn't have, as well as something that the older woman would never manage to acquire: the ability to laugh at herself. He'd seen her in a too-big jumpsuit with its arms and legs rolled up, covered in engine oil, without a scrap of make-up on her face, giggling with endearing embarrassment because she'd known how she looked, and she just hadn't cared. That was the moment, he reflected, that he'd fallen in love with her. 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd never pinpointed it before, simply accepting it for what it was. But there it was: he loved her. And now he’d made her cry. 

He approached her, seeing her shoulders stiffen when she realised he was there, although she didn’t look at him. He perched on the rock beside her and said nothing for a long while. When she seemed less tense, he spoke in quiet tones. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Tin-Tin remained silent so long, he was starting to think he’d imagined speaking up, but then she replied.

“Me too.” 

“I acted like a jealous ass.”

She nodded in agreement, but admitted, “So did I. I don’t know what I was thinking, Scott.”

“This was always gonna be a difficult situation,” he said.

“Yes.” Her head tilted, but she didn’t quite look at him. “I was thinking…I might take an extended leave of absence. Stay on the mainland for a while until…until I get my head together.” 

Her words cut deep, but he bore it without flinching. “If that’s what you need to do,” he made himself say. “But Tin-Tin…this is your home. Don’t feel you have to go. We can work this out.”

“I don’t think we can, Scott,” she said sadly, meeting his gaze for the first time. “We would have done it already.” 

Damn it all if he didn’t just want to pull her into his arms and wash away her melancholy. He could make them both happy with a single conversation and a few kisses, so why was he insisting on being so damned noble? It was an instinct so deeply ingrained, it was part of his DNA. He'd respected her relationship with Alan, never even entertaining the possibility of stepping on his brother's toes. It had hurt, of course, but he was tough and disciplined. He'd coped. 

But now she was free... The uncertainty was killing him. Both of them still felt the guilt from their one kiss, aware that they could have easily gone further. There was no real harm done in the end, but even still, they knew it shouldn't have happened. Alan had moved on, and was seeing a girl in New Jersey semi-regularly. But even with that development, Scott didn't know how his youngest sibling would react if he and Tin-Tin got together. The more selfish part of him thought that it was none of Alan’s business. But Scott was a big brother always and forever, and that meant he put the happiness of four others before his own. And her, of course. He put her happiness before his own too. Except in this one thing. 

“I’ll put in the request with your father later this morning,” she said, voice sombre but resigned. 

Scott nodded, not trusting himself to speak. When she stood up and walked off down the beach, he stayed put, watching the gentle waves, trying to figure out if he really was doing the right thing.

* * *

Three Tracy brothers watched Tin-Tin guide her Ladybird jet down the runway while a fourth hid himself away somewhere. 

Troubled, Gordon turned to Virgil and John. “Okay, I admit it. This has gone horribly wrong.” 

“You think?” John said with a snort.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?” Gordon recited hopefully.

Virgil sent him a glance, but his face was vexed. “Did we make it worse?” he asked, sounding as if he didn’t really want the question answered. 

“Should’ve gotten them into that locked room,” Gordon said wistfully. “Then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“No,” John agreed, “because Tin-Tin literally wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

“Exactly. Maybe I can talk to Penelope about some sort of disaster she’d need Scott for…”

“No,” Virgil cut in. “No more scheming. Tin-Tin is flying to Penelope to get some space to think, maybe that’s the best thing.” 

“I don’t know,” Gordon said, cupping his chin in his hand. “Seems to me like…”

His words were cut off by the emergency signal, and all three turned to regard Alan’s portrait.

“Ugh, can you stop with the beeping, I’m trying to think!” Gordon grumbled.

Jeff emerged from his study and took his place behind his desk, activating the view screen. “Go ahead, Alan.”

“Father, got a distress call from a crew trapped on an oil rig in the Arctic Sea. They say a storm is preventing them from evacuating, and the rig doesn’t feel stable.” 

“Selfish bastards,” Gordon muttered, “I was in the middle of something.” 

Virgil nudged him with his elbow, knowing he was joking but unwilling to let him get away with it. 

“Off you go, boys,” Jeff ordered them. 

Business as usual. Scheming would have to wait.

* * *

Tin-Tin had been hoping that some time spent relaxing at Penelope’s beautiful estate would help her clear her head and move on, or at least make a head start on it. She’d been pleasantly surprised when Penelope took her seriously when she’d said she didn’t want to see anyone, particularly Albie. She’d half been expecting another set-up attempt. Instead she got the solitude she’d been after, taking long hikes in the surrounding woodland, practicing her horsemanship, catching up on reading. 

At the end of three weeks she was ready to scream. In all her silence, she’d only had thoughts of one person, and her heart ached for home. Tin-Tin had never thought of herself as the kind of person who’d moon over a man when she could be spending time on herself, yet here she was, thinking of nothing else. She was faintly disgusted with herself. 

“I wish you’d tell me what’s troubling you, my dear,” Penelope said one afternoon, as they were taking tea on the terrace. 

She’d said that several times during Tin-Tin’s stay. Tin-Tin knew she meant well, but it was something she hadn’t wanted to talk about. She was getting sick of the whole thing, though. Part of her wanted to tell, to get someone else’s perspective. Virgil would have been her first choice. The middle Tracy brother always knew just what to say, and if he didn’t, he played the piano until her mood improved. But Penny would do. Despite the front she put on with her society friends, she wasn’t a gossip. Not when it mattered. 

“You can’t fix it,” Tin-Tin felt obliged to say. 

“Perhaps not, but I can try and help in any way I can. Starting with more tea.” Penny offered her a benevolent smile, refilling both their cups from her silver, microphone-toting teapot. 

Tin-Tin smiled, reaching for her cup. Penelope was a true Englishwoman, believing that tea could solve all of life’s problems. Taking a sip of calming, delicately scented Earl Grey, Tin-Tin began to think she might have a point. 

“Now,” Penny said, leaning back in her seat, “tell me what you’re running from.”

“Not what,” Tin-Tin told her. “Who.” 

As they sat there, making steady progress on the contents of the teapot, the rest of the story poured out. Penelope listened patiently, but didn’t seem at all surprised. Tin-Tin found that rather puzzling. She’d been under the impression that everyone had fixated on her relationship with Alan and hadn’t noticed anything else. Gordon suspected something, she was sure, but she couldn’t picture him gossiping with Penelope. 

“Well,” Penny declared when Tin-Tin ran out of words, “I assume you’re here because you can’t see a way forward. But it won’t always be like this, my dear. Time changes things even if you don’t.” 

“I know.” 

“But I have to say…” Penny began, hesitating and reconsidering. “May I be frank?”

Tin-Tin nodded. “Please.”

“I can’t understand why you’re both torturing yourselves over a kiss, particularly one that you’ve already repented for.”

“It shouldn’t have happened. I hadn’t tied off the loose end with Alan.”

“No,” Penny agreed, “that wasn’t ideal. But you were already having doubts, and you were taking a break, as you say, and now you’re single. Alan’s happy with that American girl. What would be the harm in you and Scott being happy too?”

Tin-Tin looked down at the remnants of her tea. “When you say it like that, it sounds simple. But you’re forgetting something. Scott is a big brother, and he feels he betrayed his youngest sibling. He won’t let go of that guilt easily, and I won’t try and persuade him. He’d only end up hating me.” 

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Penelope said kindly. “Do you love him?”

Tin-Tin glanced up at her, somehow surprised by the blunt question. She found herself nodding. “I tried not to. I tried ever so hard.” 

A private smile lifted the corners of Penelope’s lips. “I believe when it comes to the Tracy boys, trying is futile.” 

Tin-Tin found herself smiling too, because damn if it wasn’t the truest statement she’d ever heard. She missed them all so much. Some more than others, naturally, but still. Penelope was right, she couldn’t keep hiding, and not just because she had a duty to the organisation. She had to face the facts, so she set them out neatly in a mental list. 

One, she still wanted Scott. She was beginning to feel as if she always would. The space he’d carved for himself in her heart felt pretty permanent. Two, she was ready to accept that Alan really had moved on, and even if it _was_ strange for him, she felt sure he’d get over it if she dated one of his brothers. Three, she wasn’t going to act on it herself. Scott had to come to the same conclusion she had on his own, and she wasn’t going to pressure him. He had to be sure. In fact, she _needed_ him to be sure, in order to protect her own heart. Four, she had to prepare for the possibility that he never would be. Since that was what she’d assumed from the start, she felt reasonably able to do so. Five, she had to face whatever happened back at Tracy Island. It was where she belonged. 

“Can we change the subject?” she requested, mind resolved. “I’d like to have a conversation that passes the Bechdel test for once.” 

Without missing a beat, Penelope said, “What’s your opinion on shelves in the closet?” 

“Um…I suppose it depends how much room you need for dresses,” Tin-Tin replied honestly. 

It was clear her answer was more serious than Penny had expected, as the blonde woman started to laugh. Tin-Tin joined in, finding it rather therapeutic. She hadn’t achieved much during her stay, but the chat had been nice, and she was ready to go home now. At least there was that. 

* * *

Virgil was attempting a quiet painting session when Gordon stuck his head in through the patio doors and startled him.

“Where can I get mistletoe from?”

Virgil took in a deep, cleansing breath through his nose and exhaled slowly before turning. “I’m definitely gonna regret asking, but…what do you need mistletoe for?”

“Tin-Tin’s on her way back,” Gordon explained. “I’m going to hang mistletoe everywhere that she and Scott might go.”

“I don’t think mistletoe works outside of December,” Virgil commented sceptically. 

Gordon scrunched up his face. “Yeah… You might have a point. I can’t find a supplier anywhere. Unless Brains can whip up some fake stuff.”

“You got a plan B?” Virgil asked, knowing he’d regret that too but assuming it was better to be prepared. 

“Not really, only a lame one that was kind of linked to the mistletoe thing. Kissing contest, and we all perform badly on purpose. Shame that John would miss out on that though, he always carries those moisturising chap sticks around.” 

A headache was starting to thrum at Virgil’s temples. “Uh, how about no. Nobody wants that, and I don’t think Tin-Tin is John’s type anyway. Besides, you’d have to exclude Alan on principle.” 

“True,” Gordon said thoughtfully. “Pity he couldn’t spend longer in space.” 

Virgil shook his head, turning back to his palette and blending his colours together. 

“Guess it’s on to plan C then,” Gordon huffed. 

“Which is?” 

“I’m going to have to act like a total dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch,” Virgil said dryly. 

“Hey, Virg?”

“What?”

“You missed a spot.”

By the time Virgil had finished sighing, his younger brother had vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This author does not recommend setting up one's friends with the Gordon Cooper Tracy plan.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this is the end! Although there will be a one-shot follow-up story that I'll be posting in a few days, so keep an eye out for that :)
> 
> Also I've been catching up on TAG. I sort of fell off the wagon back when it first aired, but now it's on Amazon and is totally bingeable, I've been doing a marathon watch, so it's likely that there'll be content for that coming up in the Sweet Christabel future. Probably Scott-centric. I've had a crush on him since I was about six, and I don't see that changing any time soon! (David Bowie was my first 'real person' crush, although he never knocked Scott off his spot. Miss you, David.)

**Chapter Five.**

 

Gordon waited until all his brothers were relaxing by the pool to enact his final plan. After some serious consideration, he'd decided that his eldest brother needed a gigantic kick up the backside. Metaphorically speaking. The only way Gordon could think to do that was to make him think that the object of his affections was about to be swept off her feet by someone else. Not in the vague way that his hints about Cass Carnaby and Eddie Houseman, or the non-existent threat of dear Albie, had suggested, but imminently from someone much closer to home. Tin-Tin had touched down an hour or so ago and was napping to ward off her jetlag, then, hopefully, she’d come and join them. Gordon needed to have Scott primed before then. 

“Say, Alan,” he spoke up, ensuring that his words were loud enough to reach Scott, who was mindlessly strumming a guitar on a lounger not far away. “Now that you’re with what’s-her-face…”

“Stacey,” Alan corrected with a frown.

“Right, Stacey.” How could he have forgotten that? He really hoped they’d get married, just for the comedy factor of Stacey Tracy. “Would it bother you if one of us dated Tin-Tin?” 

Scott struck a bad note, and Gordon purposely didn’t look at him. He folded his arms on the side of the pool and smiled innocently at his younger brother. Alan’s brow furrowed. 

“Uh…I guess not. It would be kinda weird though. Isn’t she like a sister to all of you?”

“Hard to think of her as a sister when she wears all those fetching swimsuits,” Gordon said with a grin. “Legs up to her armpits. That yellow number that barely covers her…”

“Knock it off, Gordon,” Virgil interrupted. “She’s not a piece of meat.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon saw that Scott looked close to bursting a blood vessel, and he bit his tongue to keep from laughing. 

“I know that,” he protested. “It’s just hard not to notice, y’know?”

“I thought you preferred blondes,” Virgil said, fixing him with a Look, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

"Yeah, I do, but I'd switch preferences for the right dark-haired woman," he said with a wink. "Tin-Tin's not bad looking, and she’s right here. It’s much easier than trying to pick someone up on the mainland.” He fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. It was just so damned _weird_ to be talking about Tin-Tin that way. There’d never been even the tiniest shred of attraction between them. 

Alan’s frown deepened. “Uh, that’s not very nice, Gordon.” 

“What about her feelings?” Scott spoke up, jaw taut.

“Obviously I’d make sure she had a good time,” Gordon said dismissively, stealthily bracing his feet against the side of the pool so he could make a retreat to the safety of the middle should Scott turn predatory. “My ego can’t take any girls giving me bad feedback!”

Alan and Scott both got to their feet, and Gordon clumsily hid his surprise. 

“Look, I didn’t turn out to be the best at looking after her feelings,” Alan said heatedly, “but you take it to a whole new level!” 

Inwardly, Gordon wanted to grin at Alan’s refreshing new self-awareness, but he was dedicated to his plan. 

“If Tin-Tin wanted to be with you,” Scott said, his tone suggesting that he was highly sceptical about the fact, “then you’d damned well better treat her right.” 

“Easy, fellas. I don’t know if she wants to be with me, but how could she not, right?” He gestured to his own torso. “Swimmer’s physique. Very effective against the fairer sex.” 

Virgil was looking between them like a spectator at a tennis match, an expression of mild amusement on his face. 

“Are you serious?” Alan piped up.

“Yes, very. One time there was this girl in Hawaii, and…”

“I don’t wanna know!” Alan squeaked.

The conversation halted as Tin-Tin made her way down the exterior steps, today’s ‘fetching’ swimsuit concealed under a floaty red sarong. She sent them all a little wave before following the path down to the beach. Gordon turned to look at Scott, who was watching her movements with a furrowed brow. He looked almost calculating, and Gordon cautiously began to think that he was deciding to go after her. Perhaps his brother needed less of a push than he’d initially thought. Maybe the time apart had given him time to think. Still, Gordon wasn’t one to back out of a perfectly good plan. 

Silence reigned for a solid three minutes after Tin-Tin disappeared, ensuring that relative privacy was restored. 

“Look,” Gordon spoke up in a no-nonsense tone, meeting Scott’s glare with one of his own, “I know exactly what would make Tin-Tin happy, but it’s not in my power to give. Life’s too short to be miserable. Any day one of us might die on a rescue.”

“Gordon,” Virgil cut in, reproachful, but Gordon held up a hand.

“No, I mean it. You know it’s true. However careful we are, it would be stupid not to acknowledge that.” He shifted his gaze back to Scott, who was looking a little less hostile. “It would be terrible, but at least we’d have gone out doing something worthwhile. What would make it _really_ tragic is if we had regrets. And if Alan says it’s none of his business who Tin-Tin dates now, what the hell is stopping us?” 

“That’s not _exactly_ what I said…” Alan began.

“Shut up, Alan, I’m making a really good speech,” Gordon snapped. 

Alan blinked, but sat back down in his seat. “Sorry.” 

Scott’s eyes flicked to his youngest brother before settling back on Gordon. He’d listened, that was a good sign, but there was more than a little suspicion in his gaze. Last gamble. 

“Luckily _I’m_ not suffering with an inflated sense of nobility.” Gordon hoisted himself out of the pool. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go ask Tin-Tin if she wants to go play with a water mamba.” 

The reaction was instantaneous, which meant that he couldn’t enjoy his triumph right away. Scott dropped the guitar on the lounger and approached him in three long strides. 

“You’re an idiot, but I love you,” he said, before giving Gordon a hard shove in the chest. 

Gordon hit the water and sank, feeling bubbles leak out the corners of his mouth where he was grinning. He kicked off the bottom and broke the surface, shaking water out of his eyes just in time to see Scott’s retreating back heading down the path to the beach. He punched the air and whooped. 

Virgil gave him a slow clap, an incredulous smile on his face. “Not bad.”

Alan looked between them. “What just happened?”

* * *

Tin-Tin walked steadily along the beach in the surf, enjoying the feel of the cool water on her bare feet. She’d fancied a swim, but the pool had been full of Tracys and she wasn’t feeling the most sociable. Instead she’d made a detour and come to paddle in the shallows, debating whether she felt courageous enough to ditch her sarong and brave the waves. 

She’d come back fully intending to throw herself into her work and get back to normal, but all the vehicle checks were up to date, and Brains wasn’t working on anything he needed her help with. Mr. Tracy was busy with his accounts, and her father was tending to the kitchen garden with Grandma Tracy. Tin-Tin had popped in there briefly to greet him, and had found both of the elders more than a little territorial over their seedbeds. She’d beaten a strategic retreat.

She aimlessly kicked at an incoming wave, thinking it might be nice to ride one of Penelope’s horses along the beach. Not that the island was a suitable environment for a horse, largely lacking in hay. Still it was one of those romantic ideas that were so prevalent in movies, she’d always wondered if it held up.

The sea wasn’t always as warm as one might think at a tropical island paradise, and Tin-Tin cautiously waded in up to her knees, building up her tolerance. She turned her face to the sun, closing her eyes, and just breathed. The weather in England hadn’t been bad, but it wasn’t like this. The wind whipped at her hair, threatening to tug her hairband off. She raised her arms a touch, smiling at the feeling of her chiffon sarong fluttering around her. It made her feel fairy-like, or like a butterfly. 

The sound of parting water alerted her to someone else’s presence, and she opened her eyes to see Scott, trouser legs rolled up as he came to join her. His pale blue shirt was held closed only by a mere few buttons, and it rippled gently in the breeze. He was all tanned skin, tousled sand-speckled hair, and sea-blue eyes. A man who completely inhabited his island home. Tin-Tin pushed away thoughts far shallower than the water she was standing in, and sent him a little welcoming smile. They’d barely spoken since she got back, other than politely affectionate greetings.

He returned it, but he seemed distracted. His gaze was direct and unwavering, and somehow hotter than the sun, and Tin-Tin felt her heart jolt. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at her like that. Was it possible that her three-week absence had made him reconsider their agreement the way it had for her?

She fumbled for something to say, but her mouth felt dry. A larger wave crashed into her, splashing water up her leg. Its undercurrent wrapped seaweed around her ankle, and she stumbled, disoriented for a moment. Scott darted forward, catching her around the waist, and suddenly they were chest to chest, and she was staring at him with startled eyes.

“Gotcha,” he said lightly.

Tin-Tin knew she should step back, but she didn’t, pinned in place by the intensity in his eyes as much as his arms around her. It dragged on, long past the moment when it should have felt awkward. Instead it felt good. She felt warm and safe and cherished, and it alarmed her greatly. If it wasn’t going to last, if he was somehow only making sure she’d regained her footing, then she needed to move away before she forgot herself. She placed her palms flat on his chest and gave a gentle push. 

“What are we doing, Scott?” she asked when he didn’t yield. “I thought we said…”

“I know. And it seemed like the right decision at the time. But I think you’re miserable, and I know I am. So can I please make it better?” 

“How?” she whispered. 

He moved his hands, sliding them up from her waist, gliding over her arms until he was lightly cradling her head, fingertips sinking into the loose strands of hair at the base of her neck. He left goosebumps in his wake, and she shivered. Then his lips were on hers, warm and perfect, tasting faintly of sea salt. 

Tin-Tin had thought she’d remembered what it felt like, but memory had fallen woefully short. She curled her hands into the lapels of his shirt, drawing herself as close as it was possible to get without knocking them both down into the water. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she silently gasped, lips parting under his. Sinking further into his embrace, Tin-Tin felt like liquid in his hands, as if she could quite literally melt into him until there was no telling where he ended and she began. After the long weeks of uncertainty, the relief and the joy were almost overwhelming, despite being tarnished by a touch of confusion.

He kissed her again and again, and she almost felt powerless to respond in kind, taken aback by his intensity. Instead she clung to him, needing him to be her anchor in the tide of emotion, exhilaration, and desire that he was stirring up. It was overwhelming and addicting, and she could have happily stayed there holding on to him for dear life, but a question niggled at the back of her mind, demanding to be asked. 

"What changed your mind?" she asked, when she found her breath after they parted. She knew for sure that he'd had a change of heart, because he was too considerate to kiss her again unless it meant something.

She’d come back from Penelope’s determined to let him call the shots. Her own sense of guilt still lingered, but it had faded with time, and the knowledge that Alan was happy. After so many weeks of beating herself up over it, she’d grown tired of the drama. She just wanted to be happy or move on, but she’d known that Scott probably wouldn’t have seen things in the same way she did. To say that she was shocked – if delighted – by his change of heart would be an understatement. 

“Let’s just say…some things were put into perspective for me,” he said. “I was…overreacting. And I thought I knew best.”

“You were being a good brother,” she assured him, raising a hand to his cheek, feeling his faint stubble against her palm. “We both made mistakes, but I think we paid for them. Let’s move forward now.”

“Together?” he asked hopefully, turning his head to plant a kiss on her palm.

Tin-Tin smiled, nodding. “Together.” 

Scott’s watch began emitting a specific, urgent set of beeps, and he groaned. “God _damn_ ,” he growled, silencing it. “Of all the…”

She giggled. “It’s okay. We can pick this up later.” She was already looking forward to it.

She began wading for the shore, but he caught her hand, pulling her back in for a quick, urgent kiss. 

“I love you,” he declared firmly, and her eyes widened. “We can pick _that_ up later too.” 

“I love you too, Scott,” she replied with simple honesty. “Now go and save the world.” She smacked him smartly on the backside, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be starting _that_ game,” he warned her as they sloshed hurriedly back to the beach and started running. 

Tin-Tin laughed, turning her mind to the rescue ahead even as she relished in the feeling of the wind in her hair, the light fabric of her sarong dancing behind her. It was nothing to the lightness in her heart. 

Joining the others for briefing, tempering her beaming smile to something more professional, it was only much later that she thought to wonder why Gordon looked so incredibly smug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Folks, it's been a blast. Join me in a few days for the follow-up/epilogue/mini-sequel The Best Advice :)


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